


An Unlikely Friend

by GrumpyQueer



Series: Ficlets [4]
Category: Ripper Street
Genre: Fred Best - Freeform, Friendship, Gen, Victorian era, edmund reid - Freeform, ripper street - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 12:51:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13501982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpyQueer/pseuds/GrumpyQueer
Summary: An AU where Fred Best didn't die. He simply relocated at the end of S3, after the death of his lover. Edmund has not seen, nor heard, from Best since, until...





	An Unlikely Friend

Edmund was sat on a lone bench in Hyde Park, his hollow eyes gazing at a nearby duck pond, the weak sun reflecting on the silvery surface. The surrounding oak trees hung low, their branches spindly and ripe with autumn leaves, collecting below in clumps of orange and zingy yellow. 

Every minute or so, he would reach into the crinkled, brown paper bag on his lap, and fling a handful of soft, torn up bread. As soon as the chunks disturbed the surface, the ducks would quack and wiggle their feathery tails, gobbling the bread down in half a breath.

When the bread was all gone, he sat in silence, looking down at his weathered hands. His hair was a little longer than usual — just by a few centimeters or so — and his stubble was more of a beard, streaked with grey. Eyebrows, as ever, made him appear permanently lugubrious. 

The rain, which had remained steady all day, was no more than a sprinkle, a light spritz of water sheening his coat shoulders, a barely-there slick upon his hair. The felt of his bowler, placed on the bench beside his thigh, collected some beads of dew. He picked it up, brushing it dry, and put it on his head, twisting it into place. He’d been reminded by the sinking sun that it was time to get back to his post in Whitechapel, to that lock and chain. But as Reid arched forward to stand, a voice from behind caused a startle. It had been many years since he’d heard that particular tone.

‘It cannot be… the great Edmund Reid…’ 

There was a distinct flatness in that familiar voice, this time, lacking the usual cheek. Reid narrowed his eyes and turned, stretching his arm over the back rail on the park bench. A few stray couples were wandering about on the footpaths behind, between rows of neat flowers, snuggled close under umbrellas and in their finest Sunday attire. Cutting through the path, and wafts of ankle height fog, was a dapper man in an even finer plaid suit and silk scarf. Though, his face was far gaunter than Edmund had remembered, looking rather defeated.

‘ _Best?_ ’

Fred tipped his hat with a sense of respect and duty, offering a shy smile. There were bags stamped deep under his eyes. Walking right up to the bench where Edmund sat, he pointed to the spot beside, cigarette between forked fingers and his trademark trail of smoke, lingering. 

‘May I, Inspector?’

Edmund nodded, a little surprised as he watched Fred take a seat and cross his legs. At first, their eyes did not meet — Best simply drew back on his cigarette, watching the ducks paddle about, pecking. 

‘Amazing sight, I must say…’

‘ _What?_ Ducks in Hyde Park?’ 

Fred shook his head, a grin tweaking his curled mustache. ‘No: to witness Edmund Reid so far from his natural habitat.’

There it was: a little smile on Edmund’s face. He sat up straighter, preparing his rebuttal as if it needed all his physicality behind it. All he could muster, at least.

‘And what a fine fancy it is, to see Fred Best without his snout sniffing about for hearsay and scandalous gossip.’

‘ _Oh_ , I still sniff about from time to time, Inspector. Force of habit, I am afraid.’

They finally turned and looked at each other straight in the eyes. A long pause held as they examined the changes in each other’s faces, the many years it had been. There was a strange comfort they found in resuming their roles and banter — a reassurance, like nothing had happened in between. 

‘My, my, Mr Reid, look at all those greys in your whiskers. Old man, indeed.’

‘Not that much older than you,  _muck-shoveller.’_

Their teasing and chuckling was interrupted when the ducks in front started flapping their wings in a sudden flurry, a chorus of quacks as the flock took to the sky. The two of them watched until the ducks flew beyond the trees, heading over the smoky, chimney-laden horizon. A soft pink plume of cloud parted, wisps of grey illuminated by the fair, snuffed out sun.

Best was first to turn his attentions back to their conversation, his eyes gentle and expression softening. He glanced at Reid with an air of caution, before opening his mouth. ‘Inspector, I… I heard of the fate that befell your friends… Sergeant Drake and Captain Jackson. Mrs. Hart, also.’

The abrupt change of tone caused Reid’s shoulder muscles to pull taut. ‘Best, I warn you to tread carefully.’

‘No, Reid, I merely…’

When Fred began staggering his speech, Edmund leaned forward to read his expression, almost in disbelief to find sincerity, there. After a slow drag on his cigarette, Best put his hand on Reid’s arm, his watery eyes looking at him in earnest. 

‘I was saddened to hear of it. I know what it is to lose someone that you love, and the loneliness… _well_ … that is something I believe we share in, now.’

The clock tower bell began echoing throughout the park; it was six o’clock. Best wiped his cheek and readied himself to stand, clasping his hat in his palm. Snuffing his cigarette out under his polished boot, he scrunched his eyebrows while pondering to himself. When he turned back towards Edmund, he saw glazed eyes looking right back at him, bright and blue and entirely lost. It made his heart clench, knowing so intimately the isolation that comes with loss. 

‘I must be on my way, Inspector. But… perhaps one Sunday soon, you should like to venture even further and join me for tea in Chelsea, where I now call home.’ 

‘Tea in Chelsea, you say?’ Edmund perked up, smiling again. ‘How very _you_ , Fred Best… I should like that very much.’

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
